


Temptation

by Monkess



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Heaven, Alternate Universe - Hell, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkess/pseuds/Monkess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle is an angel, and a managing director of Heaven. Mr Gold is a lawyer from Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation

Belle French was to arrive at her new office on the first day on the job by carrying a cardboard box full of small things to personalise her new space with – a few mementos from here and there, and, of course, a stack of books. The lift was broken, but she didn't mind taking the stairs.

Even though she was dead, and was an angel in Heaven, and it was near impossible for her to gain or lose weight in the ever-tranquil, peaceful Heaven, where all God's angels were beautiful. When she had died in 1668 in France, there hadn't even been such things as lifts or elevators in her life. Now it was 2014, lifts had existed at large in the world for a hundred years, but she still preferred taking the stairs.

The part of Heaven she worked in looked very similar to Paris in 1910, with beautiful, flowing, modern architecture with simple and elegant floral decorations of Art Nouveau. The corridors of the office building barely had a straight, hard edge anywhere in its stony corridors. It was beautiful – it should have been beautiful – but in the recent decade a heavy cloud of foreboding had hung over Heaven's offices. Not physically, but rather, as a feeling of nostalgia and regret and sorrow.

When Belle arrived at the top floor, there was the janitor – a gentleman called Mister Leroy – at work, scraping the name of the previous director of operations off the glass door. Maria von Erthal, who most people more fondly preferred to call Snow White. Lady von Erthal was an 18th century born philanthropist, who had ended up dead, poisoned with an apple soaked in belladonna juice, by her own step-mother.

Lady von Erthal was inside, in fact, leaning against the window and looking out so intently she didn't turn around when Belle French's sharp heels clacked on the stone floors of the corridor towards the carpeted office. Lady Maria was dressed a little less casually than Belle was used to seeing her around the office – in a wispy thin cardigan over a summer dress, rather than her usual two-piece Chanel suit in powdery pale shade of peach – but then again, their Snow White was going on a sick leave. Indefinitely. Belle admitted she was curious of whether or not Maria was going to leave Heaven and return to Earth to do God's good work, but Belle was not one to pry into the business of others... not up front and personal, anyway.

“Good morning, Leroy, my lady,” Belle greeted everyone cheerfully.

Leroy acknowledged Belle with a glare and a grunt of “I'll be out of your hair as soon as I'm done with this.”

“Oh, take your time,” Belle told the janitor, and stepped forward to her new desk to lay down her cardboard box.

“I didn't realise, did we have an appointment this morning?”

Lady Maria stepped away from the window, she had a dreamy, if somewhat sad look on her face. “No, I'm sorry to intrude on your first day like this, in fact, but I was asked to come and brief you.”

Belle frowned. “What about?” She had gotten the job already due to knowing her way in and out of the politics of Heaven and, of course, their _interesting_ situation when it came to diplomacy with hell. If she had spent less time on adventures on Earth, doing angelic work as a bystander, Belle might have been promoted to this position even before Maria. Naturally, Belle was surprised that Maria so unexpectedly appeared without prior engagement to brief her about something.

“There were recent developments... we received a call from Hell. They want to negotiate about a mortal soul.”

That was how the interesting politics between Heaven and Hell worked. Because a long and devastating open war between them had caused, eventually, nothing but trouble for each participating side, angel, demon and human alike, they had drawn the contract of rules according to which they now all angels and demons operated. Angels and demons were allowed minimal interaction with humans, and at the end of their lives, the humans' souls would be taken to purgatory for judgement, where a lawyer of Heaven and a lawyer from Hell each made their case for the defendant's soul.

There were no special negotiations over any souls, ever.

“Negotiate? How?”

Lady Maria hugged herself, and slowly walked around the office, keeping her old desk, and Belle's new desk, between them. She did seem depressed, Belle thought. “I expect you'll hear the particulars when you go to that meeting with them. Or rather, him,” Maria corrected herself. “That's who I'm here to talk to you about, so you're ready to meet with him.”

Belle took a notepad and a pencil from her desk and took a seat. “I'll take notes then.”

Leroy was done cleaning the door. Lady Maria thanked him and asked him to leave, so they could talk in private. With a gruff huff, the short janitor was gone.

Lady Maria also sat down, and smiled weakly. “It's good to be methodical.”

“Hell will send someone to negotiate over a mortal soul,” Belle stated, getting them on track.

“I don't think you'll have met him before. His name is Mr Gold, and he was a lawyer, when he was alive.”

Belle sketched the name on her pad. “Is he a Purgatory attorney? Does he make cases for mortal souls?”

“No... he is legal representation for Hell, in all matters relating to our ceasefire contract.”

Belle nodded. “Is he an expert? Was he around at the time of its creation?”

Lady Maria shook her head and cast her eyes towards the window again. “No, I think he's from 17 th century Germany. I'm not sure, his files are all missing from the Purgatory's courthouse. But he knows the contract like the back of his own hand, I'm sure.”

“I shouldn't expect otherwise,” Belle said.

“I just thought I'd come and warn you...” Maria stood up abruptly. “He went to Hell on his own volition, so he could ensure his son can come to Heaven. During the time I've known him and met him, I've let him know how his son is. It is not exactly up to our professional standards, to pass on private information like this, but, to be honest, I'm not always sure in which world Mr Gold belongs. And I think that makes him difficult to deal with, and it also certainly makes him dangerous.”

Belle put the pencil down on the table and crossed her hands, listening, and understanding why Lady Maria was so obviously nervous.

“You might not know at all whose side Mr Gold is on, when you deal with him,” Maria said gravely. “Just remember that.”

Belle nodded. Of course! She had been an angel for almost four hundred years, and she'd seen it all. But she humoured Lady Maria and kept her stipulations about this ominous warning to herself.

“What is he like, otherwise?” Belle asked.

Lady Maria shrugged. “Tends to be polite. Concise, to the point. He can be persuasive, flattering... threatening. He'll talk rings around you, if you let him, so try cut him off if you notice you're feeling dizzy.”

 

Concise, to the point, persuasive, flattering, threatening. Belle considered these things as she approached the Purgatory courthouse at lunch time. She came on foot, from Heaven, there was a nice, tiled walkway from the city and the main offices to Purgatory. There was a road too, she could have taken her car, but that too was another modern convenience she had learned to get on without.

The courthouse was busy with confused looking, recently deceased mortals, being bossed around by attorneys from Heaven and from Hell, the angels in their pale and pastel suits, the demons mostly in black, aside from those who preferred blood-red. Belle ignored the hubbub of the arching white halls around her, and directed her steps to the restaurant of the premises. It was fairly early, and she was not there yet in time for the worst traffic. As she stepped in, she asked a waiter if Mr Gold had arrived yet, and indeed he had. The waiter took Belle right to him.

The enigmatic Mr Gold had chosen a table in the corner of the room which was further made more shadowy and cornery by the tall potted palms casting their shadows over the table.

“Mr Gold,” Belle greeted him. Although his age was an immaterial point, he seemed to be in about his fifties. He wore a dark suit, just like all the lawyers from Hell, and he had the charming yet sardonic expression of any lawyer of Hell.

“Miss French, congratulations on your recent rise through the ranks.” Mr Gold even helped Belle seat herself, and she was amused by his polite attentions. They ordered lunch swiftly.

“Now, would you like to tell me what you want to discuss about?” Belle asked, as soon as the waiter was gone with their orders.

Mr Gold smiled, briefly showing his teeth, and shook his head. “I'm afraid this is too public a place for that.”

Belle couldn't help but frown.

“We'll get down to it after lunch, I hope you'll find it acceptable if we go through the proposal in the back of my car.”

Belle glanced around at the restaurant. “Then why invite me to lunch?” She asked sceptically.

Mr Gold held his breath for a moment. “Did your predecessor mention anything to you about my son?” He asked, his voice very quiet.

Belle nodded. “Yes, that you're interested in his welfare.”

“How is he?” Mr Gold asked.

Belle had come prepared. She smiled. “He's been travelling in India recently.”

Mr Gold's expression betrayed nothing of his feelings. “Helping the poor and the downtrodden?” He asked casually.

“I would imagine so. Angels rarely go to earth for plain joyrides.”

That word – angel – made Mr Gold's lips twitch briefly, into a smile.

“I also thought a lunch would provide a more appropriate setting for getting to know you, Miss French,” he said amicably, and had a sip of the water in his glass. “The back seat of a car is hardly ideal for first impressions, don't you agree?”

Belle nodded. “I agree. This is much more pleasant.” She wanted to ask if demons in general liked pleasantness, in things, but she didn't want to come off as rude or aggressive. And she still didn't know what sort of a proposal it was that Mr Gold had come to broker with her.

Belle had fairly little knowledge of demons, which was a weakness she was uncomfortable with, now in her new position. She had always preferred not to fret about the minions of darkness, and instead she focused her light and energy into helping people. She'd gotten along marvellously mostly by avoiding conflicts, but this new job would demand she deal with demons head on. But at least there would be no resorting to flaming swords, they were strictly banned under the articles of The Contract.

So she made more pleasant conversation, spoke immaterial chit chat about how comfortable she was finding her new office on the top floor. They found a shared interest in Shakespeare and spoke about the Merchant of Venice for a while, until their soups and salads arrived. Belle had French onion soup with plenty of cheese and croutons, while Mr Gold ate a garden salad with a side of garlic bread.

Belle found herself wanting to relate more about herself to him, as well as wanting to find out more about him – was it true he had gone to Hell to save his son? How had he died on Earth in the 1600s? Had they been alive at the same time in Europe? But she had to resort to asking him questions of how he had become acquainted with all the fine print of The Ceasefire Contract, and why he of all people had become the legal liaison of Hell?

“It's fairly simple,” Mr Gold said calmly, “Hell is bursting with the kind of people that, as you must understand, deserve to go to Hell. There are, of course, thousands of corporate lawyers amongst them. Most of the capitalist age are too young to run a senior position, of course. And the age of the Empire was an era of morality, so it can be surprisingly difficult to find a senior litigator in Hell.

“And another thing, of course, if dependability. You, as an angel, I must assume you are every bit as dependable as any other angel of Heaven,” Mr Gold continued, “but there is always a slight uneasiness in the chain of command in Hell. You cannot trust most demons, Miss French.”

Belle smiled a little. “Do you mean you're here because your employer trusts you?”

Mr Gold grinned another one of his shark tooth smiles. “They know I am as good as my word.”

After a very pleasant lunch indeed, Mr Gold directed Belle to his car. The mute driver, wearing shades, stepped out when they came in. Belle had rarely been inside cars, and found the creamy interior of the stylish black car interesting to the point of distraction.

“Perhaps I should take you for a ride sometime,” Mr Gold told her, and Belle snapped back to the present from her adoration of the car.

“Here, I've drawn documents over the matter,” Mr Gold continued, and pulled out a dossier for Belle's benefit.

“Is this a contract?” Belle asked.

“It is a proposition for terms for an addendum to the Ceasefire Contract, Miss French,” Mr Gold replied.

“What's at the heart of it?”

Mr Gold's pleasant smile vanished so quickly, he looked almost frightening when he spoke with all solemnity. “My employers have made note of the fact that demons outnumber angels at least ten to one. Should a war come-”

“There won't be a war, thanks to the Ceasefire Contract,” Belle replied sharply, her hands clenching over the edges of the dossier.

Mr Gold glared at her, in response to being spoken over.

“The Ceasefire Contract can't protect Heaven for all eternity, Miss French. It is just that, a lull between battles. But my employers have come up with a non-violent solution to ending the cold war between Heaven and Hell, which I believe, your employers will find surprisingly generous.”

Belle nodded, and looked down at the dossier. “And if we refuse to the addendum?”

“Things will continue as they have... until the ceasefire ends,” Mr Gold muttered the last words.

“I see,” Belle replied. “I'll need to read this, as will my associates at the office. I'll call you, after we're finished going through your proposal. Is this agreeable to you, Mr Gold?” She tried to sound calm, strong and certain. This dossier was making her feel nervous, weak and confused.

“Yes. I'll be in touch with you myself, if it seems there are untimely delays, but I'm sure I won't need to resort to reminding you of the imperatives of our work, Miss French.”

“Until our next meeting then, Mr Gold,” Belle wished him, forcing a polite smile. She turned on her seat to open the door, but couldn't figure out how to do that.

Her confusion must have shown on her face and in her manner, for Mr Gold was leaning against her next, and reaching his arm across her, to open the door for her. In that short space of time, Belle caught the scent of his hair, and felt strangely exhilarated by the briefest touch of the skin of his palm brushing past the back of her hand, as he opened the door for her.

With her hair standing at the back of her neck, Belle climbed out of the car, wordless for the sensation that had just overtaken her. She stood out in front of the yard of the Purgatory's courthouse and watched the driver get back in the car and then take off, to Hell.

 


End file.
